


Everyday People

by Ultra



Category: Leverage, White Collar
Genre: Awkwardness, Crossover, Eliot Spencer's Cooking, Friendship, Gen, Minor Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Misunderstandings, Protective Peter Burke, Protectiveness, Spies & Secret Agents, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/pseuds/Ultra
Summary: Some suspicious people seem to have entered Peter Burke's world, he's just not sure what it is about them that's making him feel like something is so wrong.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke & Eliot Spencer, Elizabeth Burke & Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey & Mozzie
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70
Collections: Crossworks 2020





	Everyday People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GirlOfSaltAndStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlOfSaltAndStars/gifts).



> GirlOfSaltAndStars - This crossover came out weighted a lot more towards White Collar than Leverage, but I hope you will approve of it, in any case. I did sort of cross two prompts together - hope that's okay too. Thank you for giving me another opportunity to write these two shows together. Always fun :)

“I don’t know what it is exactly, I only wish I did, but something about those two agents just... put me on edge.”

Peter wasn’t even sure he was phrasing it all that well, but he did know there was something about FBI Agents Thomas and Hagan that just didn’t feel right. His gut rarely if ever failed him, which was why he was still talking about it so many hours later.

“Come on, we checked them out,” Neal reminded him. “Twice, actually. We read the reports, saw their pictures. It’s not like you can say you don’t trust the resources of some other agency, Peter. You are the FBI,” he told him, as if he didn’t know.

Stopping half-way to unlocking his front door, Peter looked back at Neal and sighed.

“You do know you’re not helping right now, don’t you?”

Neal raised his hands in mock surrender even as he shot him a winning smile.

“I’m not saying any more, I promise,” he swore, silent for all of ten seconds as Peter slid his key in the lock and let them both into his home, “except you really should look into some kind of stress relief. Maybe take up yoga or something? I’m sure this paranoia is just a symptom of-”

“Sshh!” Peter shushed him fast, holding up a hand to keep Neal from not just talking but from moving any further into the house either. “You hear that?”

Neal visibly cocked his head to listen and reacted to the sound of voices in the kitchen, one distinctly Elizabeth’s dulcet tone, but the other, some unknown male.

“She’s laughing.” Neal pointed out in a low voice. “So, before that paranoia goes into over-drive again, consider that sensible, well-adjusted people like your wife rarely laugh when in mortal danger.”

Peter struggled to keep the angry growl in his throat as he followed Neal towards the kitchen. He really had to stop bringing work home with him, especially when it was in the form of his CI.

“You know, I remember when you used to have a little respect for me,” he grumbled.

“Really?” Neal smirked, turning back from the kitchen door. “I don’t.”

As the two of them stepped into the next room, Peter almost ran right into Neal’s back from his stopping so abruptly. He realised quickly what the surprise was. The stranger talking to Elizabeth really was exactly that, a complete stranger to the eyes of Peter and clearly Neal too, and he was wielding a very large knife.

“Hey, guys,” said Elizabeth with a bright smile, wiping at her eyes that had clearly been running with happy tears, given how joyful she looked. “You okay, hon?” she checked as she got closer to Peter and kissed him hello.

“Sure, hon, I’m just fine,” he told her, though his eyes were mostly on the muscle-bound man with the knife yet. “Friend of yours?” he checked.

“Yes.” Elizabeth grinned. “Well, kind of. Eliot and I worked together once, years ago now, and then this morning, we ran into each other at the farmers market, totally random,” she explained. “Eliot, this is my husband, Peter Burke” she introduced, “and this is... his colleague,” she said delicately, “Neal Caffrey.”

Something seemed to change in the guy’s face when he heard Neal’s name, though Peter couldn’t imagine why. Sure, Neal was well-known in the art world, but this guy didn’t look like the type to know a Degas if it jumped up and smacked him. Then there was Neal’s reputation in criminal circles. Now that Peter could believe to be a connection here.

“No last name, Eliot?” asked Peter, even as he shook the guy’s hand.

“All the greats just go by one name, honey, you know that,” Elizabeth cut in before her friend could say a word. “And Eliot is honestly the best. Just wait until you taste his risotto, it is truly amazing.”

“El, come on.” Eliot shook his head, smiling nonethess as he went back to chopping and dicing. “You’re embarrassin’ me here.”

“I’m sorry but you are the best,” she insisted. “Don’t worry, when it comes to being a top class agent or an excellent criminal expert, I defer to my husband and Neal, but for cooking? I’ve never known anyone better. I mean, seriously, your knifework alone-”

“Peter, could I talk to you for a second, outside?” said Neal pointedly, tilting his head towards the door.

For a guy like Neal to be less than subtle meant something was definitely wrong, which thrilled Peter not at all. Still, he excused himself and led the way out the back door, ensuring he shot Eliot a warning look as he went.

“I’m so sorry about them,” he heard his wife say before the door was all the way shut. “They’re usually much friendlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eliot assured her. “I’m used to it.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Peter asked Neal, firmly but quietly, since he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what could and could not be heard through the closed door. “Do you know that guy? He seemed like maybe he knew you.”

“I don’t know him, but I know _of_ him,” said Neal pointedly. “Based on the knife skills and the name, I’m guessing your wife is buddying up with Eliot Spencer.”

The sound of smashing glass made Peter flinch and he turned at the same moment Neal did to find Mozzie standing a few feet away, a bottle of merlot in pieces at his feet, the wine dribbling out in all directions.

“Please tell me you did not just say what I think you just said,” he asked, staring wide-eyed at first Neal then Peter then Neal again.

“I’m guessing by your reaction you heard me exactly right, Mozz,” his buddy told him nervously. “Question is, what do we do about it?”

“About what?” Peter shook his head. “Who is Eliot Spencer?”

“Is he kidding?” Mozzie asked Neal. “Are you kidding?” he tried again, getting in Peter’s face this time.

“Hey, will someone just tell me what kind of psycho I need to save my wife from?” he asked crossly, looking between the two criminals that he knew he could at least trust to a point around his home.

“Peter, I’m guessing you’ve never heard of Eliot Spencer because you’ve always worked White Collar and he is... well, his collar is distinctly blue.”

“Red would be a better descriptor,” Mozzie noted. “To match his hands. He is a world class hitter. You know, they say he used to be Damien Moreau’s right-hand man.”

“Yeah, and that he’s the only man ever to walk away from Moreau and live too.” Neal nodded. “Peter, this guy is dangerous and he takes no prisoners.”

“And we’re all standing out here while he’s alone in the house with my wife!” he said, perhaps a little too loudly as he lunged for the door.

The three men came tumbling into the kitchen, practically falling on top of each other, only to find Elizabeth sat alone by the counter with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Wow, when did you turn into The Three Stooges?” she asked, with laughter in her voice. “Seriously, is everything okay?” she checked then, clearly sensing something was wrong.

Peter rushed right over to her, grabbing her up in his arms and hugging her tightly.

“Where’d your friend go?” asked Neal warily.

“Oh, Eliot had to leave,” said Elizabeth, waving away any concerns with her free hand. “But don’t worry he put the finishing touches to the food before he had to run. Some family emergency, I think, or so he said. I don’t know for sure, but I actually think it was a woman.”

“A woman?” Mozzie echoed, looking curiously into the pan on the stove.

“Yeah, I sneaked a look when his cell buzzed. Some real pretty blonde named Parker was calling and then suddenly Eliot was making his excuses and running out the door.”

Peter noticed another significant look pass between Neal and Mozzie, and was only too pleased that El excused herself to the bathroom in the next moment, so he could ask what they needed to worry about now.

“You know Parker too? What, is she some kind of killer fembot?”

“Wow, Suit, someone’s been watching too much Battlestar.” Mozzie rolled his eyes.

“Parker is the name of a thief,” Neal told Peter. “Almost as good as me. Come on, Peter, there’s no way you haven’t heard of her.”

“Of course I have,” he insisted, as realisation dawned, his hands slamming down on the counter. “They’re probably meeting up to pull some kind of job, aren’t they? This Eliot Spencer and Parker.”

“Could be,” Mozzie considered. “It’s weird, physical descriptions of Parker are rare as hen’s teeth, but I never pictured her blonde.”

He and Neal continued to talk, but Peter stopped hearing after a while. His brain was doing its usual thing of piecing together the bits of the puzzle that seemed so unrelated on the surface but almost always turned out to be very relevant and interconnected in the end.

The FBI agents that gave him a bad feeling this morning, the stranger in his kitchen who turned out to be a criminal, and a hasty exit to meet with a pretty blonde. All of this on a day when he and Neal were trying and failing to get a lead on a potential heist in progress. It could not be a coincidence.

“We need to get back to the office,” he told Neal, turning back to face him. “Mozzie, I want you to come along too. We’re going to need your intel.”

Peter brooked no argument, even though Mozzie, and even Neal, tried to make excuses. He had them both by the front door ready to go by the time Elizabeth made her way down the stairs.

“What’s going on?” she asked with a frown. “I thought we were going to eat dinner?”

“Sorry, hon, something came up,” Peter told her, reaching to give her a quick kiss before they all left together with brief apologies and waves.

The front door closed behind them and Elizabeth sighed as she wandered down and back into the kitchen. Eyeing the pan on the stove, the smile soon came back to her lips, as she picked up the wooden spoon and took a taste.

“Mmm. Oh well, more risotto for me, I guess,” she said happily. “Thanks, guys.”


End file.
